Breaking Through The Curtain
by CUtopia
Summary: Politician!AU - Neville Longbottom, British delegate of the International Confederation of Wizards, and his colleagues are confronted with Voldemort taking over the British Ministry of Magic.


Entry for the _Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition._ Round 9 – Wigtown Wanderers versus Falmouth Falcons

 **Task:** The Rescuers

Entry for _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

 **Task #1:** Write about a character defending against an attack.

 **Prompt:** (action) someone crossing their arms

Entry for the _Chocolate Frog Card Club_

(Bonus!) Ulick Gamp; **Challenge:** Write about someone who has to make a drastic change.

Entry for the _Gringotts Prompt Bank_

Various Prompts: Navy CIS

(occupation) Politician

(AU) Politician

Various Prompts: The Hunchback of Notre Dame

(emotion) guilt

(emotion) fear

(item) flag

(word) monster

(action) standing up for what's right

(action) discrimination

Various Prompts: Bambi

(word) danger

(word) respect

Various Prompts: The Rescuers

(group) International Society

(location) New York

(colour) purple

(location) Headquarters for Society

(word) help

(action) being late

Various Prompts: Charmed

 _Season 1 Episode 16:_

(colour) black

(word) Black Magic

I changed some little facts of the Confederation of Wizards around a bit too, so it would fit the UN theme a bit more :) Also, Neville and Susan obviously are in the generation of their parents.

Thanks a lot to my fellow Wanderers Emily and Liza, who checked this through :)

(2020 Words)

* * *

 **Breaking Through The Curtain**

Neville Longbottom was racing through the long hallways of the building, not having a single glance to spare for the beautiful skyline of New York outside the glass windows to his left. While he was running, his black robes were fluttering behind him and he dodged several people on his way, panting out apologies here and there. Cold sweat ran down his spine and covered his skin, causing his hand to slip slightly on the handle of the door he ripped open.

A heavy blush crossed his face as he entered the assembly room; it was obvious that he was the last delegate to arrive, and everybody turned around to stare at him as the door thunked shut loudly. His shoes made squeaking sounds on the polished marble floor as he made his way through the row of desks, squeezing past occupied chairs towards his own.

It was highly embarrassing for him to be so late, but it hadn't been exactly his fault. The news of Voldemort taking over the British Ministry of Magic had only reached the International Confederation of Wizards in the early morning hours, and not many of them had been prepared to get up shortly after dawn to attend a hastily formed Security Council.

But Neville was obviously the one who'd been most surprised by these sudden developments, being the only one to arrive so late. On the other hand, he hadn't really thought he would be the delegate of choice – there were more capable colleagues, after all. He wasn't exactly an expert on crisis situations; he was more of a seat-filler here in New York. Therefore, the urgent owl from the Secretary of the International Confederation of Wizards, which had nearly smashed his bedroom window in the attempt to deliver, had caught him by surprise – and had ripped him out of his REM phase.

The ICW councils weren't exactly known for hectic procedures and important decisions; it was more of a place to make sure that there were some international diplomatic connections. For Neville and most of his colleagues, it was a place to sit around, eat cookies for free and raise his hand from time to time during attendance checks after lunch or votings on flying carpet resolutions.

Falling onto his chair, Neville wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his black robes and let his gaze wander around the room. The first abnormal thing he noticed was the fact that a delegate from each nation was present. On a daily basis, the attendance of the delegates normally slacked, especially towards midday, when the cookie supplies were short.

Another extraordinary fact was that the Secretary of the ICW, Susan Bones herself was sitting under the purple flag of the organisation. She obviously there to lead the council on her own, which told Neville that this was really serious. For a second, he already longed for those relaxed council meetings during which they'd basically done nothing but discuss Quidditch. Black magic was definitely another league.

"Ladies and gentlemen, now that the esteemed delegate of Britain and Ireland has finally graced us with his presence and we're complete, I'd like to start this session." Miss Bones raised her voice, and in her tone Neville could hear a lot of concern, even though her face didn't show much emotion at all.

"In the early morning hours, some concerning information reached my bureau: You-Know-Who has taken over the British Ministry of Magic."

Delegates around the room gasped in shock or started to whisper agitatedly; obviously, not everyone had yet heard about the fall of the Ministry. Of course, though he'd been asleep, Neville had gotten a notification by his contact man in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, the department he was here in New York for. It was an understatement to say he'd been shocked upon waking up to find several gleaming red envelopes lying on his chest — and there'd been blood on the parchment from his Ministry colleagues. By now, the shock had faded though and fear had taken over its place. Neville's hands gripped the folder lying in front of him, just to keep them from shaking.

As soon as the room had become quiet again, Madam Bones continued to speak: "Another issue we've become aware of is that the Dark Lord's disgusting ideas of blood purity are spreading over the borders of Great Britain. I think we would all agree that the peace in the wizarding society is in danger."

Chewing on his lower lip, Neville tried to calm his heartbeat. Everything was happening so fast, so suddenly, he couldn't take in all the information at once. His thoughts were racing and he could tell that his fellow delegates were feeling the same, but still, he was alone with some concerns. The reason why he was late was that he'd tried to contact the Ministry, but he'd been unable to do so.

He had no idea what was going on at home, but the Dark Lord and his henchmen were monsters, so he could put one and one together and assume that many of his colleagues were dead. Somehow, he felt guilty for sitting here in New York in a comfortable chair, perfectly safe from all the horrible ongoings. Now, all he could do was to try and help them in the only way he could: gather the international wizarding society and ask them to help, even though it would be a hard task. After all, the Dark Lord was British, and the conflict was happening on British soil. The only issue they could legally work against was the spreading of his ideals into other countries.

He would have a fun afternoon, he thought bitterly, and his expectations were fulfilled within minutes; after a short introduction into the topic, the first speaker was allowed to take the lectern.

The expression the delegate had when he looked at Neville before speaking made him shiver.

"Madam Secretary, esteemed delegates. The delegate of Australia would like to express his deep shock about the recent events. These are dark hours for all of us who value freedom, respect and tolerance; the peace in the wizarding society is highly endangered. However, we shouldn't forget that the signs foreboding the Dark Lord's return were obvious, and the British Ministry of Magic did choose to ignore the issue."

He was directly staring at Neville as he voiced more accusations and subtly concealed discriminations against the members of the British delegation; his gaze was like needles that digged into his flesh.

"The delegate of Britain and Ireland hasn't commented on the issue yet; he even came late for this important meeting! It seems as if the whole British government has lost control."

Dumbledore had told them that You-Know-Who was on the rise, but the Minister of Magic had refused to listen.

Neville could feel his cheeks burning and cursed this sign of weakness, as it only fueled the other delegate's opinion, even though he should know that Neville was only a small wheel in the governmental apparatus.

Defensively crossing his arms in front of his chest, he stared down at the polished wood of the table in front of him. The next two speeches weren't any different, and he felt anger starting to boil inside of him. The delegates were acting as if he'd personally invited You-Know-Who for tea in the Minister's office, even though he was more of a diplomat than a politician; he wasn't the one to make decisions. He'd been one of those who'd believed Dumbledore and Potter, he'd written Fudge several letters, but that was all he could have done in his position.

Neville couldn't believe that they were all ranting about who was to blame for You-Know-Who's new rise to power; in his eyes, the past was the past, and their task now was to find a way to support those who were still opposing the Death Eaters.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, he realised that it was time to stand up. The times they'd had discussions about speed limits for flying carpets and customs on foldable cauldrons were definitely over; more important things were waiting for him. He had to gather support for all those who were endangered in his home country; if he didn't fight for them and end this nonsense, nobody would.

With a determination he'd rarely ever felt before, he raised his hand as soon as the next speaker was chosen.

While he approached the lectern, he cleared his throat and hoped that his voice wouldn't shake this single time. Of course, this wasn't his first speech, but it was the first one about such a serious topic, and his self-confidence had already been attacked harshly, together with his integrity. Not the best conditions for a nervous man like him, but maybe he could turn the situation around; after all, he was definitely drawing the line when it came to his professionalism. Without it, he was nothing, after all.

As he stood at the head of the assembly room and looked at the expectant faces, he realised that he didn't have a speech ready; no paper no hold on to. He would have to do this freestyle, and he told himself that it was now or never. Taking a very deep breath, he chased the sickness away and licked his dry lips, suddenly feeling more ready than he'd ever been in his career.

"Madam Secretary, esteemed delegates," Neville started and surprised himself by how calm and set his voice sounded as it resounded in the room. "The delegate of Britain too feels devastated about the events in his home country, and he cannot deny that the Ministry was blind on far too many opportunities. This situation certainly could've been prevented, and the delegate would like to point out that he wrote to the Minister of Magic on several occasions in an attempt to make him aware of the dangerous situation. However, the Minister didn't reply to the letters, and thus choose the road of ignorance."

He stopped for a moment, letting the words sink in; he could see some of the delegates who'd attacked him sink deeper into their chairs. Neville found that it was time to hit his speech home.

"Please note that the delegate was late for this council because he tried to get in touch with his contacts in Britain in order to get a clearer view of the situation. In the delegate's opinion, it is sad and outrageous that the members of this council have spent nearly an hour on accusing a fellow diplomat of failing in matters that are above his paygrade. Therewhile, they lost sight of the thing that should be most important right now: finding a solution for this situation. To find a way to help those who are endangered by the ideas of this man. If we don't help them, nobody will."

Shaking slightly, finally feeling the adrenaline, he nodded at Secretary Bones. His heart leaped as he saw the corners of her mouth twitch upwards slightly, and he walked back towards his desk. It was a little moment of triumph for him; everybody was silent, some delegates were nodding at him, looking as if they were sharing his opinion wholeheartedly. Others were wearing rather dumbfounded expressions on their faces, the result of his courageous speech. Only as Neville sat down and the first members of the council started to clap, did he release a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

A positive feeling flooded through him, making him feel more optimistic about the whole situation.

In this moment, he knew that he'd been able to lead the discussion onto the right path, and he hoped that they would be able to find a way to help those who were in need. Until this very morning, they may have been just an unimportant organisation that existed for the sake of diplomacy, but he knew that they could make a difference, if they only acted.


End file.
